


A Poor Substitute

by neverending_shenanigans



Series: Dragon Age Prompt Exchange Fills [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Author Is Not A Barista, Comedy, Don't Examine This Too Closely, F/M, Modern Thedas, coffee lovers beware, i for one love coffee without knowing shit about it, i stole that last tag somewhere, no beta we die like men, solas is a pretentious barista
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-09-30 19:29:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20452367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neverending_shenanigans/pseuds/neverending_shenanigans
Summary: When Varric substitutes his beer for coffee and his regular bar 'The Hanged Man' for this coffee shop called 'Mythal's Well', Marian Hawke knows something is up. When he substitutes his bestselling crime serial for a new romance novel she knows something is _wrong_.In which Varric bases a novel of his new favourite barista Solas, who might be worse at this romance thing than he is; both might be fools, but at least Varric doesn't hide behind the coffee shop owners policy, okay?





	1. Americano

“We’re lucky Zevran is in today. The other barista, Solas, has a fit when people order this ‘poor watered down substitute’,” Varric mumbled as he returned to the table and put the cup of coffee down in front of Marian. He also pushed her feet off his chair so he could sit down again.

Marian picked up the Americano and shrugged with a half grin. “I’m Fereldan. We like everything watered down. Be glad I didn’t order tea.” She places her feet in Varric’s lap.

Varric opened up his laptop as Marian continued to catalogue the place in her mind. It was … what you would probably expect from a coffee shop. Lots of greens, a couple of coffee beans painted on the walls, small wooden tables where hardly more than two people could sit. Carvings of some of the Dalish Gods cluttered the place and added some charm. And the round signature logo of Mythal. It was nothing special, in her humble opinion, but she heard the chain ‘_Mythal’s Well_’ was very successful all over Thedas.

Marian wrinkled her nose. “So this is the place you go to when you write these days? I don’t see the appeal. I liked it better when you wrote in bars and pubs.”

“I still write there, sometimes. You haven’t heard of the concept, but there’s a time and place for everything,” Varric hummed into his own cup of coffee. Something way more fancy, with froth, that Marian knew jack shit about.

“Yeah? And what’s this the time and place for, exactly?”

“Romance.”

This made Marian freeze, with her cup halfway to her mouth. Her jaw went slack. “Romance?!” Immediately, she looked through the room, but it’s early mornings, and there’s no other customers. She looked over to the barista and the other people working the counter again. The pretty-haired elf? Varric had never indicated interested in dudes, so far. Which also made the horned giant unlikely. The blonde elf woman with the misshapen haircut, maybe? Varric liked ‘em weird. “Really? I thought you’d said you aren’t into elves.”

“What-? Andrastre’s tits, not _mine_, Hawke. This is a good place to _write_ them.”

Marian relaxed a little, for a moment. Then she leaned over, trying to look at Varric’s laptop screen. “How come this is the first time I hear of you writing romance?”

“Because I write them under a different penname. And I haven’t written one in years. They’re not my favourite genre.” Then he pushed Marian’s head aside, gently. “Dammit, Marian, you smell like a whole liquor store. What were you and Fenris up to last night?”

“The usual. Isabella dragged us to a tavern and there was karaoke and I was so good at it that people kept sending us booze. And it’d be rude not to drink all of that, clearly.”

“Clearly,” Varric nodded, dryly. “Andraste forbid you’d insult your adoring fans, Champion.”

“Also, technically, not last night. Two hours ago,” Marian yawned and took another sip of her coffee. She knew that Varric was trying to distract her, and usually she’d let him. But she couldn’t help but feel a little peeved that he’d been keeping this place a secret from her. She’d not even know of it _now _if she hadn’t run into him on her way home and he had refused to let her take the bus in her state.

She put her head on his shoulder, and squinted at the screen. “So what are you writing?”

> _… their hands briefly making contact as he hands her the arrow. He pulls back hastily, his fingers tingling from the forbidden touch. For a moment, their eyes meet, and he feels himself getting lost in the endless green seas that-…_

Varric shut his laptop closed. “It’s just a draft. You wouldn’t like it, Champion. We both know how you feel about romances.”

Marian huffed. “I don’t like them when _other_ people write them, Varric. I’ve never read one of yours since you kept _secrets_. I have to sample them first. Try me.”

She couldn’t see his face from the position of her head on his shoulders, but she could hear the exasperation in his voice. “A guy falls for a girl, a girl falls for a guy. They are bound to bore you, Marian. There’s no dragons involved.”

“Oh, boo,” Marian sighs. “There could and should totally always be dragons. Also, I’m sure you have a little more than that. What is that about ‘forbidden touching’? Is it _that_ kind of novel? I am all for smut.”

“It’s about _feelings_. A guy falls in love with a girl he thinks he can’t and shouldn’t love. Girl falls in love with the same guy but thinks it’s unrequited and that he’s not interested because he’s giving her mixed signals.”

Marian mulled over this, for a moment. “And why write it here? There’s people with feelings in pubs, too, I am being told. You could write about Isabella. I’m sure she has some kind of feelings for some people somewhere between all the sex."

At this, Varric chuckled against the top of her head. He lowered his voice. “But Isabella doesn’t pine. And there’s a lot of pining and incompetency and sticks up people’s buts here. Also, I’m learning a lot about coffee.”

Well, that didn’t sound like something she would like to read about. To be honest, at least half of that sounded uncomfortably familiar. Not that she was going to offer _that_ up to Varric. “Coffee is a poor substitute for booze.”

Varric raised his hand briefly as the bell chimed and another person entered the coffee shop. “Ah, Penthaghast! Over here.” Marian looked up as the woman strode over to them with purposeful steps. Short black hair, white button up, killer eye-shadow. Ah, yes. Marian recognized her from the pictures: Varric’s own adoring number one fan, who also happened to be his Agent. Marian had heard a lot about her, even though she’s never technically met her.

“Tethras. Please tell me you woke me up because you have finished the three overdue chapters by now,” she practically barked at them, arms crossed.

Varric was unfathomed by her withering stare. He softly patted Marian’s head as he spoke. “Unfortunately not yet. But I am working on them, probably, and I have a favour to ask. Would you mind dropping off Marian on your way to the publisher to inform them of the delay?”

It was fascinating to see the woman’s face become several darker shades of red in her anger. “What do you mean probably. And -“

Varric continued hastily before the woman could even finish the curse. “Also, have you met Marian before? Marian, this is Cassandra Penthaghast, my Agent. Cassandra, this is Marian Hawke. You know her better as ‘_Champion of Kirkwall_’, I think.”

This, apparently, made the woman choke on her own words. There was the usual expression of amazement that people often had when meeting her, too. Marian recalled that Varric claimed the woman to be a fan of not only him and his work, but also the characters in them.

Marian decided to indulge Varric and be the distraction. She sat up as best she could, extending her hand towards the other woman. “A pleasure, I’m sure. For you, anyway.” She added a wink for good measure. “Also sorry if I’m fucking up your schedule. I’m a little drunk, you see, and Varric is being a good friend. As is his duty, considering he made big bucks of my story. Which, hey, I think you did, too, right?”

Cassandra had taken her hand, still staring at her as if she was a bog unicorn or something. Marian used her hand to pull herself out of her chair, and threw an arm over the woman’s shoulder. Best to just overwhelm her before she had reached her verdict and realized how bad it was to meet your heroes. “So, let’s get going, shall we? I have places to meet and people to do. See ya later, Varric,” she waved casually, steering the shell-shocked woman away from the door, mouthing a ‘_you owe me_’ over her shoulder towards Varric.

As Cassandra slowly began talking, Marian took one last look at the coffee shop. She would have to return here and figure this new story thing out. Varric always based his stories off of people. She wondered who the lucky dog was this time around.


	2. Café au Lait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bull is a connaisseur of various unexpected things.

“Too much coffee is bad for you,” Bull offerd as he put down the Café au Lait in front of Varric and picked up the two empty cups and the empty glass and put them on his tray.

Varric looked up at him, with a half-smile. “You know that you’re working in a coffee shop, right, Tiny?”

“Sure. But I prefer cocoa. It’s sweeter.” Bull shrugged. It’s a quiet Tuesday, so he had time to linger. Josephine, their manager, didn’t mind if they chatted with the customers. Making them feel welcome was part of their business concept. A really weird, really specific concept, truth be told. The coffee chain’s owner had written out a very lengthy set of rules and ideals to uphold. A lot of it was old fashioned and fancy crap, and Bull suspected that a lot of it went ignored. He was about 60% convinced the owner ran this chain as a hobby and had never actually ever set foot in a coffee shop.

So, yeah. A customer who only ordered about five cups a day, but blocked a whole table for their entire opening hours was fine. As was strolling over to him when he felt like it, as long as there always was one person behind the counter. Besides, it’s _that_ time of the day again.

It was almost three in the afternoon. Just around the time that _she_ would have her break and drop by. Bull had taken to avoiding being behind the counter then. It was either avoid being there, or risk getting entangled in Solas’ really weird dance he was pulling off.

Had Solas being a Qunari, he’d just have states his interest and the two of them could have fucked it out already. Had Solas been a dwarf, there’d have been family names exchanged, and maybe even gifts already. Had Solas been a Dalish, there would doubtlessly have been pretty poetry or some other flowery shit.

But no. Solas was a very special boy. The kind who, instead, liked to have a stick up his butt and just close his eyes to the situation and willing it to go away. It was physically painful to watch, for Bull.

It had reached the point where Bull had once engaged _he_r in conversation, trying to subtly find out more about her and whether or not he could convince her to make the first step and proposition Solas. It would have been worth the effort to end this pining mess. But Solas had had a fit, citing company policy. Their business concept was to make people feel welcome, but also to respect their privacy. Yadda yadda yadda. Solas hid behind their owner's policy a lot, but only when it was convenient for him. It was annoying.

“I wonder what that says about you, working in a coffee shop and all that,” the dwarf mused, calling Bull’s attention back to their most loyal – or second most loyal – customer. “Besides, this one is already pretty sweet. And I like the froth.” Then he kicked out a chair for Bull to sit down in. He turned his laptop a little. “Speaking of sweet, tell me what you think of that passage.”

Bull obeyed, siting himself down in the tiny ass chairs that Varric preferred for his regular table, scanning the paragraph that Varric had pointed at. “Did they finally talk about their feelings?”

“As if,” Varric snorted. “That won’t happen for a good, long while. At least seven more chapters. If ever. But they’re having a more personal conversation. You said they talk too much business last week.”

Bull rubbed his palms together. “True. Just didn’t think you’d take it to heart.” He began reading.

> _“It is a paradoxical by-product of my craft as a healer. To expand it, I need to practice less of it.”_
> 
> _“How so?”_
> 
> _“How do I explain this… as her majesty’s assassin, you were trained to hit a target with your daggers. The grace with which you move is a pleasing side benefit. The steps along the way to become who you are were as enjoyable as its goal.”_
> 
> _ “You find me … graceful?” Her green eyes widen in wonder and the blush rushing on her cheek rivals the colour of her lips. He is transfixed by the sight._
> 
> _“You sound surprised.”_
> 
> _“Admittedly, yes.” She lowers her gaze, and he so wishes to reached out, and gently push her chin up, make her gaze meet his once more. But he forbids himself from doing it._
> 
> _“Then I need to declare it. It should not be surprise, nor subject for debate.” At his reverent words she looks up at him once more._

Oh, that was smooth. Bull had read a lot of romance novels – not that many people knew that bit about him – and Varric managed to bring out the sweetness without sounding _too_ chliché. Also, Bull was a bit of a sucker for what seemed to be the theme of the newest romance: mutual pining and forbidden romance. Those were the shit.

Then he pondered this for a moment. He knew that Varric hanging around here wasn’t actually a coincidence; Varric based his novels vaguely on people he knew or observed. They had an agreement, even, that Varric was welcome to base his next pirate novel on Bull’s life story as a bodyguard. As long as he kept the fighting accurate. And so far, Varric was very faithful to his muses. “Wait, has this _actually_ happened?”

“Sort of. Last week they were talking about her work and something along those lines came. Obviously Chuckles didn’t touch her, but the compliment was there. I just filled in the blanks.”

Bull shook his head in disbelief, with a grin. “Good for him!”

“So. What do you think of the part?”

Bull mussed it over a moment longer. Then he voiced his verdict. “A bit too much dialogue and he obsesses over her eyes _again_. And he lectures a lot – which is in character. And there’s some progress, at least.”

“Thanks. Though the eye gazing isn’t exactly my fault,” Varric nodded, turned the laptop and added a note to the section. As he was typing, the door was pushed open and in she came, whistling a cheerful tune. Varric looked up, and grinned a little. “See for yourself,” he added and then nodded his head with a meaningful look towards the counter. Then he leaned back in his chair, grabbing the glass Bull had brought over.

Bull pretended to watch Varric’s screen, but looked towards the counter instead edge.

He watched as their barista sidestepped Sera to handle their regular customer’s order personally. Which was, in itself, a big thing. Solas didn’t like half of the people that came into their shop. Frankly speaking, Solas was a snob about coffee, and he unironically hated people who weren’t as knowledgeable about it as he was while absolutely refusing to teach them about it either. Bull and Sera had an entire spiel going where they intentionally gave customers wrong facts about their coffee orders and the blends they held and their history, just to see how long it took for Solas to get overhimself and jump in or have an aneurysm.

What Bull hadn’t quite figured out yet was what made this one customer so different. She always ordered the same thing and it wasn’t exactly fancy. She had never once engaged in a long rant about the flavours of coffee, or done anything that would set her aside as an aficionado. It remained unclear why Solas thought her worthy of his attention, but he clearly did.

She was pretty, sure. Bull could appreciate a red-head any day. Dainty little thing and a typical Dalish. Dressed in what Bull would consider hippy-clothing, her hair either wild curls or pretty braids, and her heritage tattoos on her face and arms and hands. But considering the name of their coffee shop, and the claim that this chain carried traditional blends of the old days, there were lots and lots of Dalish here. Solas seemed to dislike them more than other guests, actually. What made this one – Lavellan, if he remembered correctly – special?

Solas was actually smiling at her. And staring. She was saying something, making eye contact. Solas got her the “muffin of the day” she always took with her coffee, handed it to her and said something to her. She was laughing, taking the muffin and pushed her hair behind her ear. A moment later Sera brought her a napkin, but Solas was the one handing it to her. He offered another remark and her reply made Solas smile, then she headed back to the table. And for the entire duration of their two minute conversation they had not broken eye contact once. And until she reached her table, Solas kept watching her.

He would absolutely never come out from behind the counter. Especially not during his shift. It was this invisible line that Solas had drawn for himself. There was no talking aside from the few moments after her order, before she received it. But yeah. There was staring, soul-searching looks full of longing. Holy shit.

Bull looked towards Varric, who wore a self-satisfied expression.

“Fair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to the writing staff for Dragon Age. Specifically, the person who came up with the line that i bastardized in here. I could never make Solas as smooth as this one line does and I swear it is this line that made me even consider romance him.


	3. Cappuccino

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Thursdays are bad days for Solas.

Varric had almost forgotten what day it was, but around four Solas’ mood turned a little sour. When Varric ordered his fifth cup of the day he was almost curt. His back was more stiff.

Then Varric remembered: It was a Thursday. Ah, yes. In the three weeks he'd been coming here he had noticed a pattern.

Around half past four she came in, later than usual. She was whistling a tune, as she usually was, and her entire face light up with the brightness of sunshine as soon as she saw Solas, as usually. But where she usually wore casual clothing, on Thursdays she wore earrings and her red hair was pinned up by a nice pin, too. This Thursday she even wore a dress and a touch of make-up. Varric took notes.

As she did each Thursday, she ordered two “Muffins of the day” and her usual order of coffee, a Cappuccino. But unlike usually, and like every Thursday, she ordered two cups. And, as usually on Thursdays she took her order to go.

Varric knew that Solas didn’t know any more than he did who the second cup and the second muffin were for, but it was clear that Whistles had plans each Thursday.

Of course, Varric had tried to convince Solas to just ask her. It was an innocent question, appropriate Smalltalk for a barista and his customer. But Solas had refused, on the grounds that he felt it inappropriate. It was none of his business.

She cheerfully said her goodbyes and practically skipped out of the shop. Whatever she was doing on Thursdays, she was looking forward to it. And good for her, too. He knew that sometimes she came in with dark circles beneath her eyes, and clearly some weight on her shoulders. He had never actually gotten to talk to her, but somehow Varric liked the elven girl. It was the writers’ curse; he often got too attached to his characters or the people they were based on. He was somehow rooting for her, without even knowing her first name. He'd dubbed her Whistles, for now.

He had tried to find out her name, but the owner’s policy was to call everyone “Master” or “Mistress” and their last name, like some weird fetish shop. First time they had addressed him as Master Tethras, he had quickly dissuaded everyone but Solas and Josie of that notion. Those two were stubborn as mules.

Speaking of stubborn – Solas’ expression returned to the scowl as soon as Lavellan left the place. His adamant refusal to ask her, and yet his heart seemingly breaking a little with each coming Thursday was inspiring and painful to watch. He seemed less and less hurt and more and more resigned with each week. It was good material for the book, really. It was just a shame for their resident stuck up elf, who had opened himself up to merciless teasing by being so swayed in his mood by her.

Zevran and Sera had a bet going whether or not Whistles was a married woman, or if it was just dates she was having. Zevran seemed to favour the idea that the girl was a serial dater, much like himself. Solas clearly liked neither idea.

So as always on Thursdays, Varric took it upon himself to distract Solas.

He strolled over to the counter, waiting for Solas to clear up some other orders. When the shop was almost empty, and Solas came over to him. “Did you see anyone interesting today, Master Tethras?”

Varric yawned. “Yeah, I got a couple of good scenes. That elderly couple was a good source of inspiration for a scene I put off for a while. It’s inspiring to see two people who haven’t grown tired of each other after so many years.”

Solas smiled at him, but it was a weak smile. “Oh? I am sure Miss Penthaghast will be happy to hear that the next time she drops by.”

Varric shook his head. Cassandra had been checking in on him every other day eversince she figured out that he was not, in fact, writing the next instalment of the crime novel he had promised, but instead working on his first romance in almost ten years. She had been… excited, to his surprise.

Just as surprisingly, she and Solas seemed to get along. The last people he expected to get along, really. They had a sort of bargain that he would withhold coffee if Varric didn’t manage to churn out a set number of pages. This agreement had made it a little hard to keep the fact from the barista that the novel was based on him. So far, Varric had managed by playing the “writers don’t show their work”-card and being extremely vague about everything.

“So, can I suggest something, Chuckles?”

“Yes?” Solas expression became guarded immediately.

“You know, you could just offer her to drink a cup of coffee _with you_. Substitute actual words for those longing looks.”

As if on cue, Bull leaned leaned next to Solas’ other side, with a grin. “Yeah. How about on a Thursday. Maybe she’d tell you of her prior engagement then.”

“Oh, smart,” Varric nodded.

Solas seemed less impressed. He fetched a cloth and started cleaning the counter. “You both know that this is against the owner’s policy.”

Bull snorted. “No one has ever _met_ the owner, aside from our monthly newsletter and those strict guidelines about how things should be run. Pretty sure they’re some very anal Orlesian snob and they don’t really care. And Josephine absolutely wouldn’t mind. She’s a romantic.”

“Orlesian?” Solas asked, sounding a little surprised and mildly amused. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

“Sure. Very focused on decorum and atmosphere in the shop and how to make good money and clearly very detached from how shops actually work and how real people live in this society. Also hella racist notions sometimes. Sera has half a mind to sic her friends on them,” Bull nodded. “I actually suspect that Business Lady that comes in on Fridays sometimes. Madame de Fer.”

Solas had the expression on his face he wore when people ordered an Americano or even tea. “Be that as it may,” he started, after a long pause, “that is no excuse to ignore policy when there is a good reason for it to be in place. It could make _her_ uncomfortable.”

“Oh, sure,” Dorian chimed in from the table closest to the counter, sarcasm lacing every syllable. Dorian was Bull’s boyfriend who came in after his own work at the bakery next door that stocked the coffee shop’s case. Varric was pretty sure that Bull had only started working in the coffee shop because it was next to where Dorian worked. Varric had every intention of writing his next romance novel about them. “Just like my flirting makes all those guys and girls uncomfortable, and that is totally why they are return customers. It’s not like it is flattering and pleasing to people if they think someone finds them desirable or anything. And heaven forbid she finds out you’re actually into her.”

“There is a difference between what you describe and what you would have me do,” Solas replied, with gritted teeth. Not like they hadn’t said some variation of this before, but he was more easily annoyed with Dorian, somehow. “And you might find that even some of _your_ customers would consider your ‘flirting’ unwanted attention, if you cared enough to notice.”

"Oh come on," Bull intercepted. "No one is suggesting you ask her to fuck or marry you. How bad could a bit of simple coffee be?"

"There is nothing simple about it," Solas snapped. "Actions have meanings."

From there, it devolved into an argument on appropriate behaviour in the work place, and Varric slipped back to his table, pondering that angle for his novel.

An epiphany hit him and he set to work.

_“The Queen’s Assassins are forbidden from taking lovers… because they are magically contracted to guard her for the rest of their lives.”_


	4. Mochaccino

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sera has an idea

“I have come up with a solution to our Egghead’s problem,” Sera suddenly spoke up next to Varric’s ear, leaning over him from behind him, putting down his Monday-Morning-Mochaccino and almost giving him a heart attack in the process.

“Andraste’s ass, Buttercup, give a dwarf a warning when you sneak up on them,” Varric sighed, a palm pressed against his chest, turning slightly in his chair, careful that Marian’s head wouldn’t slip off it. But Marian was sleeping soundly, still snoring in his shoulder.

The elven girl was grinning, so clearly she had known exactly what she was doing. She was rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet, too. Clearly the woman was eager to tell someone of this supposed solution. But Varric knew that she also just incessantly enjoyed annoying Solas. So he looked at her with apprehension. “And what would that solution be? Have him fired?”

Sera paused, tilting her head a little. “Balls, Varric. That is a _great_ idea, actually. My idea’s shite. We’ll go with that. You should ask the manager to do it. For love’s sake. It would make this so much easier. Should I call Josie over? The dwarf wants to speak to the manager?”

Varric sighed, and kicked out a chair, motioning for Sera to sit her ass down. “Let’s hear your idea first, shall we? And try not to wake the Champion. She’s nasty when woken up.”

“Oh yeah?” Sera looked Marian over. “Why’s she here anyway?”

“Investigating.”

“What?”

“Romance, apparently. Or that was what she slured before she fell asleep.”

This made Sera giggle-snort. “She investigated Romance alright yesterday. In the Breakroom. When she and Zevran were doing it.”

Varric rolled his eyes. He had not known that Marian had been here yesterday, but he wasn’t surprised. She was wholey convinced that there had to be a good reason why he was here so often. And she and Zevran knew each other, too. So it wouldn’t have been the first time. “Was there something you wanted to tell me or not?”

Unceremoniously flopping down into the chair, Sera sighed. “Fine. But yours idea ‘s better.” She propped her elbows up on the desk. “I thought we could try to hire her.”

Varric frowned. “Let’s assume for a moment she doesn’t already have a job that she likes. How-?”

“She doesn’t have a job, actually. She’s doing a sort of volunteer work. Didn’t listen, didn’t care. Point being, she probably needs money,” Sera interrupted him, way too cheerful for the words coming out of her mouth. She casually reached for his cup and started drinking it.

But it was too early on a Monday morning to work with Sera on her manners and why one shouldn’t sound so happy at another person’s misfortune. Or when, exactly, Whistles had been here and how Sera had managed to have a whole conversation with her without Solas butting in. Because that was something no one on either side of the counter had achieved so far.

So he continued on, patiently. “Well, assuming she is free and even wants to work here: how would that help Solas with finally asking her out, exactly? He claims it is against company policy to flirt with customers. Surely there’s also a rule against work place harassment that would forbid him for asking out a co-worker.”

Sera looked at him with genuine disappointment and started cursing. “Oh, that’s bullshit. Shite. Yeah, I think Josie said there’s a rule. Didn’t listen.” She mulled this over, quietly, for a moment, before turning in her chair.

“Hey, Bull,” she screamed across the room, making everyone look over to them. “Is banging a co-worker against the rules or something? Not asking about you, don’t make that face, I don’t want to ride the Bull. Is there an hare-arse-ment rule?” Some first-time customers seemed a little taken aback. But most of the more regular guests didn’t even bat an eyelid.

Bull looked at them with suspicion in his one good eye. “Sera,” he said back, slowly. “Are you alright? Since when do you care about rules here?”

“Oh, just answer, you big log,” she shouted back.

“Might I remind you,” another voice cut in, sharply, as Solas emerged from the closet with a fresh bag of coffee beans and a sour expression, “that there was a Newsletter just this morning specifically about this issue?”

Sera stuck out her tongue at him.

Bull crossed his arms on his chest. “Yeah, about that. Am I the only one who finds it a little bit suspicious that the weekly Newsletter for the whole chain is always an awful lot about things that happen in this location in particular?”

Solas raised an eyebrow at him. “What are you saying?”

“Josie probably has to write reports,” Sera shrugged. “Managers always spy for the big wigs.”

“True, but doesn’t apply here,” Bull said with a shake of his head. “Montilyet isn’t even out here that often. She wasn’t here for a good third of what the Newsletter addressed.”

“Again,” Solas said, patiently. “What are you saying, Bull?”

“I just wanted to point out that the owner is familiar with this place, so you’ll remember it when it is revealed that Madame de Fer is truly the owner. It fits.”

Sera groaned, loudly. “Bullshit.” Then she giggled. “Get it? Bull-Shit?” She caught herself after almost half a minute of giggling. “Anyways, Egghead. If you read the Pubesletter, what’s it say? Is there an hare-arse-ment rule or some such shite?”

“Of course there are rules against it. I am delighted to see you finally interested in it,” Solas replied dryly.

Sera made a face and farting noises. “Oh, boo. Who reads these boring ass letters anyway. Owner’s a shithead.”

She turned in her chair. “I think there’s a rule, yeah,” she stated, as if Varric hadn’t been sitting just across from her for the entire conversation. “But asking out is not harassment, is it? And I’m banging Widdles in the breakroom, too. And it’s awesome. Banging in the breakroom is healthy. He needs to be banged like a screen door in a hurricane. Just look at his face.” At that, she gestured over her shoulder, to where Solas was aptly still staring over at them with mildly confused expression.

Varric couldn’t help a grin. “Terrible face, yeah.”

“I know, right? And it’s not like anyone cares.”   


Varric wasn’t sure what drove Sera to this – he doubted it was just that she wanted Solas to get together with Whistles and be happy. Varric managed half a smile. “Solas would probably care a lot. Sorry, Buttercup. But feel free to pitch it to Josephine anyway.” He hoped he was here when she did. This was gold. He would absolutely create a nosy co-worker for his characters, too. Everyone deserved a meddling Sera in their lifestory.

Sera scowled unhappily, then she emptied his cup. “Yeah. Doesn’t hurt. And we could still get him fired, anyway,” she got up with his empty cup. “Want a new one?”

“Sure.”

Marian suddenly spoke up against his shoulder. At which point had her snoring stopped? “Me, too!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, rules that prevent workplace harassment are great. Everyone should have some.


	5. Caramel Frappe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Marian investigates.

When Varric returned to the shop on Wednesday, he was surprised to see that his usual spot was occupied already by Merrill and Fenris. He approached cautiously.

“What are the two of you doing here? Fenris, you don’t even like coffee, if I remembered correctly.”

Fenris scowled at him. “It seems you’re the only one who remembers that.”

Merrill smiled “Hello Varric, good to see you. We’re just here to pick Marian up. She called and said she needed a ride.” Then, she made a small gesture. “This is a very nice shop. I didn’t know there was a place like this, serving in the Dalish custome.”

“It’s not technically Dalish, or so the barista claims. It's suppossedly older and the Dalish do it wrong - his words, not mine. Where is Marian?”

“We’d like to know, too,” Fenris scowled.

“Your friend is in the back,” another voice spoke up, suddenly. Zevran had sauntered over to them, with a cup of tea that he put in front of Fenris. “A pity you missed her coming in, my friend. She called Solas her ‘_replacement_’. He was very put out.”

“Did she now,” Varric said, with a sigh. Was that was her visits here had been about? Did she feel replaced as his muse? He knew that she could be a bit territorial sometimes. Shit. He’d have to explain this to Solas, probably. “What’s she doing in the back then? Throwing hands with Chuckles?”

“Investigating.”

He remembered Sera’s recent claim, about Marian _investigating_ Zevran. Varric glanced over to the green door that led to the breakroom area, then back at Zevran, who wore a self-satisfied smile. “If she’s in there _investigating_, what are you doing out here?”

“Because she is not investigating _me_, my friend. Anything else for you?” He directed his question at Merrill and Fenris. “Another muffin, maybe? I think Hawke will be out presently, though.”

Varric stared at Zevran in horror, looking around to see which staffer was missing. _Don’t let it be Solas._

Fenris wordlessly drank his tea.

“I would like one more of the same if that is possible,” Merrill replied politely. “It was very nice. What is it called again?”

Zevran looked delighted. “Caramel Frappe! Wonderful choice. Never order it from Solas, though. Officially, we don’t sell that.”

Varric decided he needed to sit down once he realized that Solas was, indeed, missing. But so was pretty much everyone except Zevran. He should have known Marian would butt her way into this part of his life, too. “And who or what is she investigating today?”

Zevran grinned at him, and shrugged - and left. Varric turned to the other two elves. “Is Isabella with you guys? How long have you been waiting for her now?”

“No, she isn’t. She has some other business in High Town today. And an hour, maybe,” Merrill said, hesitantly, glancing to the clock.

“One hour and fourty-two minutes,” Fenris growled. “And I am out of here in eighteen.”

That was a lot longer than anticipated. Not that he couldn’t entirely see Marian pulling that off but …. No. No, best not dwell on it. Not that it bothered him that she was having 'an investigation' per se. He had read Isabella’s detailed friend fiction, and she was rather…. explicit. So he could stomach that. But there were _some_ images that he just didn’t want in his head. This was where he was drawing the line.

He needed a distraction.

With swift movements, Varric pulled his laptop from his bag and set it up, under the interested gaze of Merrill and Fenris’ wholey uninterested one.

“Oh, Hawke said that you are writing a new story in here.” Merrill sounded entirely delighted at the idea. “I hope we aren’t disturbing you?”

“No, Daisy, it’s fine,” Varric mumbled, re-reading the last couple of lines he had typed up the day earlier. For a while, they fell into silence again. Varric busily typing away at the next scene.

Bull had suggested a couple of things he could add to create tension outside of the pining, one of them being a magic object – a mirror, a sword or an orb - that their hero had to find. Varric liked that idea and he was busy going through earlier chapters and writing this in. It would make an excellent reason for the healer why he couldn’t be with the assassin yet.

He lost track of time, but it was later than the eighteen minutes that Fenris had threatened when a door was opened. Not the green one, leading to the breakroom, though. The red one, to Josie’s office. Varric was a little surprised to see Marian and Sera emerge from the room, with Bull.

Sera was a wild one, but she was extremely faithful to her Widdles. So despite Marian’s expression, like a cat that got the cream, it wasn’t the kind of Investigating that Zevran had – probably intentionally – wrongfully implied. The ass. That begged the question of what, in the Name of Andraste, had the three of them been doing in there?

Varric tried not to show the relief on his face, and prepared to casually question Marian, but it didn’t look like she had any intention of coming over. Instead, she made a gesture over to their table, and Fenris and Merrill hurried to her. Merrill apologized to Zevran, got her coffee to go, and paid their bill.

Suddenly, Varric felt very worried. What the fuck was Marian up to? He, too, got up, but Marian already moved towards the exit.

“Sorry, Varric, don’t have time to talk. I have a dragon to kill,” she blew him a kiss and that was that. For a moment, Varric stood there, entirely too uneasy with the situation and confused. Then he walked over to the counter.

“Hey, Tiny. What was that about?” He knew his voice sounded less casual and instead almost demanding. “Since when do you know Marian?”

It earned him a big grin, and a low chuckle. Bull was busy grinding up the beans by hand, as was another of the owner’s weird-ass policies. Snob. “Knowing? Not until an hour ago, I would say. But colour me impressed. I understand why she earned herself the title of ‘Champion’.”

“Is that so,” Varric shot back, dryly. “And how does one impress a former spy?”

“Hey, not so loud,” Bull shot back, completely unimpressed though. He stopped his grinding, briefly. “But let’s just say that your friend has managed to sniff out something I hadn’t, so far. She may have even found a solution for some of our problems. Things here are about to change a little.”

Exactly what he had been afraid of.

“Andrastes ass,” Varric grumpled. “What are you up to, Marian?”


	6. Mocha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Varric has a guest at his table.

“Ehm, excuse me. Is this chair empty? Would you mind if I sat here for a moment?”

Varric feigned to look up from his screen in surprise when she approached his table. The girl didn’t need to know that he and everyone working here were watching her every time she entered.

The coffee shop was unusually crowded for a Friday, and when she came by today he had already noticed that no table was empty. Well, and he had seen Bull point her towards his table after she had ordered.

He smiled, kicking out the chair in question. “Sure, sure, have a seat,” And as soon as she had put down her things, he extended a hand. “Name’s Varric. Welcome to my table. I’ve seen you before, haven’t I?” He was determined to use this chance to get to know his unknowing muse.

She smiled, and took his hand. “Ellana. Yeah, I come here quite often. You’re a regular here, too, right?”

Varric nodded, pleased. Then again, who wouldn’t notice this glorious amount of publicly displayed chest hair. “You could say that. The manager says I’ll have to pay rent soon.”

Ellana laughed. Having the smile and the laugh and those green eyes directed at him, for once, he could sorta see why Solas was so smitten. She was pleasant to look at. “There are worse places to live in.”

“Very true. And it helps that the coffee is good,” he raised his Mocha and gazed at her cup, and was not surprised to see her with her usual Cappuccino and the Muffin of the Day. Still, he pretended not to already know. “What do you have there?”

“A Cappuccino and a blueberry muffin,” she smiled. Then, as if on impulse, she took the amaretto almond biscotti and offered it to him. “Would you like my biscuit?”

“Sure, thanks,” Varric took it from the spoon she offered it on. “You don’t like them?”

Ellana shook her head and her red curls were flying wild around her head as she did. “No, I don’t like their flavour, I’m afraid.” Then she shrugged. “I wonder why Cappuccino is always offered with these. Some chocolate cookies would be nicer. But I don’t want to cause the baristas any trouble, they have enough work as it is. And Solas seems so intent on them.”

Varric sighed. Yeah, Solas was …. Intent on a lot of things. Change was not in his nature. “It’s an Italian thing, I’ve been told. They are served alongside coffee variations with froth or foam so the customer can test how thick the froth is. Ideally, it should stay on top of the froth and not sink through immediately.” When Ellana looked at him with surprise, he shrugged a little, pointing to the counter. “Or that’s what Solas said when I complained. I’m not an expert.”

She turned, looking at Solas, and Varric really had to fight the urge to grin at the softness in her expression as she observed him work. “Ah, I see. Solas seems to know everything.”

“Sure. And it helps that he truly loves coffee,” Varric nodded in agreement, at which she returned her gaze to him.

“He does, doesn’t he? The first time I came here I didn’t know what to order and I was overwhelmed with all of those choices. He explained it all very patiently and he seemed so alive.” Solas and patient? Varric could hardly keep down a snort. Solas felt offended that people didn’t magically know everything about coffee there was to know. Imagining him explaining it seemed off.

Probably misinterpreting his expression, Whistles rubbed her neck, shaking her head. “Ah, but I am keeping you from your work, aren’t I?”

“Oh, it’s all good. I needed a break, and a little conversation is always welcome.” Varric was not willing to let her change topics so easily. This was a goldmine. “So, I take it you weren’t a coffee expert yourself then? How long have you been coming here?”

This made her pause, for a moment. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably around a year now? To be honest, I am still no coffee expert.” She looked down at her cup, with half a smile. “I panicked and ordered what Solas recommended, a Cappuccino, and have ordered the exact same thing ever since.”

Varric couldn’t help himself. He leaned forward a little. “Why not try something different? Is it so good?”

Ellana’s head turned as if involuntarily, gaze fleetingly skitting over to the counter before returning to him. She was blushing a little, but tried to shrug it off. “Oh, I… it’s good, of course but… I am not that much of a coffee person, to be honest. At this point I think it’s just a silly ritual of mine. And I think I come here more because it’s such a nice place. And at this point it would be a bit embarrassing to reveal to the staff that I know so little about their craft.”

Interesting. So this girl came here one day, was given a lecture on coffee by Solas that, by her own account, was a little embarrassing to her, and then decided to come back almost every day for almost a year – despite the fact that she wasn’t even a coffee person? And she cared what the staff – aka Solas – thought about her order? He would bet the entirety of his future earnings of this romance book she thought she wasn’t entirely aware of why that was. He couldn’t help a grin.

“Oh, I feel you. I come here to write, you see. The coffee is good, but I know nothing aside from what Solas keeps telling me.” Then, he winked at her. Because he knew Solas was watching, he also pointed in his direction. Giving him a good scare that they were talking about him.

Of course, everyone’s favourite bald elf practically scrambled to seem busy. “If you really are interested, I am sure he wouldn’t mind teaching you a little. He appreciates people willing to learn, or he wouldn’t be putting up with me at all. He thinks it’s never too late to learn.” Lie of the century, honestly. Solas was willing to teach people anything _but_ coffee. But Varric would bet his ass that he’d make an exception for Whistles.

She followed his gesture, and hers and Solas’ gazes locked across the room. It was a shorter version of their lovelorn stare, then she looked back at him, with a thoughtful expression.

“You know, maybe I will. Sera has told me they are hosting a coffee workshop this Sunday, and I have my day off from … work. I will probably embarrass myself a little, but it should be worth it, right?” Briefly, Varric wondered at the pause and the lie. Or had Sera misunderstood? Did she have a job?

Also, this was the first time he ever heard of a workshop at _Mythall’s Well_. He was 99% sure there wasn’t going to be one. Was this what Sera, Marian and Bull had been planning?

But Lavellan was looking at him, as if asking for a stranger’s confirmation on this. Her expression was so hopeful. And for a moment, he remembered his own advice to Sera – would he really be doing Solas a favour? Ah, what the hell. Solas wouldn’t approve, but he couldn’t help it. This was too good. “Right,” he nodded his agreement. “And you know what, I’ll join you. Wouldn’t miss it for the world. We can embarrass ourselves together.”

“Thanks,” she smiled at him. Then she looked at her clock. “Oh, shoot, I’m late.” She hops up from the chair, holding out her hand once more. “Thank you for the chair and the conversation, Varric.”

“The pleasure was all mine. See you on Sunday.”

This better be good, Marian. This better be good.


	7. Espresso

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a lot of coffee is consumed and someone has to make a choice.

When Varric arrived on Sunday, he almost expected there to be a red notice that Sera had successfully pranked all of them. He was surprised to find that instead, the doors were closed, but as soon as he approached Zevran hurried over to open them - and the entire staff of ‘_Mythall’s Well’_ was present.

Solas was busying himself behind the counter, wearing a murderous expression. The idea of a workshop where he had to explain coffee to uncultured people was probably his nightmare.

He also kept glancing angrily towards Sera and Dagna, who were making out. Dagna had herself seated on the counter and Sera was standing between her legs.

Bull was at a table with Dorian, together with their manager. Josephine was rubbing her forehead as multiple headaches were plaguing her. What a sight to behold.

Varric was a little surprised to find that there was another table occupied – with Marian, Isabella and Cassandra. Cassandra had a murderous expression on her face, whereas Isabella seemed to be having a field day. Both she and Marian were wearing… sunglasses and trench coats.

After taking a moment to drink in the sight, he sauntered over to them. This was either a very good thing, or a very bad, but it was 100% Marian’s idea. He was really only surprised to find that she had managed to rope Cassandra into it, too. “My favourite women at one table in my favourite coffee shop. Colour me surprised. Almost wouldn’t have believed my eyes.”

“Didn’t recognize us, eh? It’s the trench coats,” Marian said with a broad grin. She had her arms crossed and her feet in Isabella’s lap. She elbowed Cassandra. “Told you, you should have let me get one for you, too.”

Cassandra made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat.

“Yes, it is the trench coats,” Varric played along. “Can someone explain them to me?”

“According to Marian, we’re incognito,” Isabella supplied helpfully. Semi-helpfully.

“We’re just regular customers in pursuit of romance. And this is the time and place for that, apparently, and we came dressed to kill it.” Marian pulled her shades down a little with the last words, so she could wink at him.

“You’re certainly killing something. Cassandra’s dignity, for one,” Varric mused. This earned him a withering look from his agent. He wondered what Marian had promised her to get her to join them in this. But he suspected the answer was in the half-truth that Marian had told him. They were meddling with his business, because they couldn’t leave it alone and just wait for him to finish the book. And Marian thought she had found a way to “kill” either the romance or the book. He was … worried and intrigued equally.

“You go to your table and do your thing, Varric,” Isabella said with a yawn. “Don’t mind us. We just wanted front row seats to the spectacle.”

Which begged one question. “How do you even know of this?”

“I have friends in low places,” Marian said, pushing her glasses back up. “Aside from you, I mean.”

“And I had a fling with the barista. Called in a favour.” Isabella pointed at Zevran and then blew a kiss in his direction when the pretty elf did look their way. Zevran blew one right back and then made a … less PG-Gesture, pointing to the green breakroom door. Isabella gave him the thumbs-up and rose from her chair. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me for… eh, five minutes, maybe.” She paused, briefly. “Or do any of you want to come with? I’d up it to fifteen, then.” She winked at him.

Varric raised both his hands. “Count me out,” he turned on his heels and walked over the other occupied table.

“Wait,” Cassandra suddenly called out behind him. “What about the five chapters? Do you have anything yet?”

He just gave a wave. “I don’t know you, you’re totally incognito,” he called back.

When he strolled over to them, Josephine turned towards him. “Ah, Master Tethras. At least Sera did really invite some customers for this … impromptu event.”

“I’m surprised Sera could convince anyone else to join,” Varric replied, amusement audible. “I get a good story out of it either way. With the rest…” he shrugged, for emphasis, and let his sentence trail off.

“Oh, I am quite here for the disaster, too,” Dorian said, with a smug smile on his face. “I can’t wait to see that Man make a fool of himself on a Sunday.”

“Yeah, that. And I want to see if our owner reveals themselves,” Bull shrugged.

Dorian threw his hands up in exasperation. “Venhedis, Amatus. When will you stop with that conspiracy? It’s not that Orlesian Lady.”

“It is not Madam de Fer, I swear.” Josie frowned at Bull.

“I didn’t mention her. You brought her up,” Bull shot back with the most innocent expression on his face.

Josephine sighed, scribbling something on the notepad she seemed attached to. “For the record, I also wonder if Misstress Lavellan will truly show up. I should never have agreed to this.”

“I am sure she will. What do you say, Ruffles, shall we get a coffee in the meantime? Otherwise I suspect Solas will murder everyone here in a moment if we don’t let him grind some beans. Speaking off, does Chuckles know why everyone is here?”

At that, Josephine finally made a different expression aside from regret. She actually giggled. “No. He thinks it is Sera’s birthday event. I claimed it is not good form not to show up when she rented the whole place, including his service.”

“Smart,” Varric nodded. “And when is this whole thing supposed to happen? Sera didn’t exactly give me a time.”

“She gave no one a time. Which is why we’ve all been waiting for more than an hour so far. Solas is very… unhappy.”

“Huh,” Varric blinked. “Well. That should give us enough time for coffee, then.”

* * *

He had time for two cups of coffee, actually. It was only after another hour that there was a light knock on the door, and Zevran practically leapt over the counter to open the door for Whistles.

Varric noticed with half a smile that she was wearing her Thursday outfit – nice dress, hair braided up, earrings and light make-up. She also wore her usually radiant smile as soon as she spotted Solas. The resident bald elf, in turn, froze on the spot.

“Ah, Ellana!” Sera called out, waving frantically. “Awww, yisss! We can start!” She clapped her hands, then bounced over to Solas. “So, baldy. That coffee workshop thingy can start. Teach us all about your balls.”

“She means beans,” Dagna hurried to add.

Sera raised her chin. “I said what I said, Widdles.”

Though it all, Varric observed Solas, whose facial expression was frozen and riggid. His eyes had narrowed a fraction, though, and Varric had no doubt that the barista was beginning to put two and two together here. It was clear that he was considering his options right now.

What would he do? Call them out? Refuse to play along? Varric had never seen Solas really flip his shit. This could be good.

But it was Ellana who seemed to decide things for him. She stepped up to the counter with an expression that reminded Varric of Marian when she spotted a new shiny thing: excitement and delight.

She didn’t even need to say anything. As soon as Solas laid eyes on her face and that expression, his own face seemed to practically melt, and his expression softened into that gooey face that only she seemed to bring out in him.

“Of course,” he replied slowly. “What would you like to start with: The type of beans, their preparation or the most common type of coffee servings?” He turned his expression to Sera. “ Would you like to chose? Since This was your _event_, wasn’t it?” His expression remained kind, but the sudden shift in the tone of voice sent a chill down Varric’s spine.”

He was very much impressed that Sera didn’t even flich. He’d have made sure to put the counter between them. Instead, she looked just entirely pleased with herself, very much aware of what he really meant with his words. “Abso-fucking-lutely. How about we start with your hot fluids, huh?”

Solas clenched his jaw. “Certainly.”

He turned to the machine and fetched four cups and a couple of other utensils. He directed Dagna to prepare spme milk foam and steamed milk, and Bull to whip up some cream. In the meantime, Josephine ushered everyone else over to the end of the counter – though Varric notied that Isabella and Zevran were still absent.

After a moment, Solas returned to them with four cups. In all of them was a small amount of Coffee. “This is an Espresso. In the Italian way of serving coffee, this is the basis for all other types.” He turned to Josephine. “Our esteemed Manager, for one, prefers a Latte Macchiato, a very popular drink, since one can still taste the coffee but it is softened. For this, we pour the Espresso unto steamed milk and add milk foam.” He demonstrated how afterwards.

“Master Tethras favors a Mocha, and that is very apt. For when he writes he adds flavour to another person’s life to turn it into something else entirely,” Solas seemed to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Oh, ouch. Yeah. Right. Marian had mentioned the muse thing to him. “And a Mocha is the strong espresso sweetened with chocolate, stamed milk and whipped cream. Only a fourth of the cup is actual coffee.” Varric hadn’t known that throwing shade via coffee was possible, but he had been very wrong. He sipped from his Mocha in shame.

Then Solas turned his gaze towards the main character of this whole clusterfuck. “Misstress Lavellan has been very loyal to Cappuccino. It is a drink that is usually only served in the mornings and a good start for any day. It gives strength but the added steamed milk and milk foam make it pleasantly mild and give a feeling of satiation.”

Lavellan was practically beaming at Solas, hanging on every word from his lips. Then, she … she raised a hand? “Can I ask something?”

“Of course,” Solas inclined his head, graciously.

“What is the difference between a Cappuccino and a Café Latte? I.. I may have read up on it, a little, and both are made with espresso, milk foam and steamed milk, if I remembered correctly.”

Had anyone else asked that, Solas would have frowned, would have probably pointed to the long tradition of either drink, or something. But he seemed to approve of everything this one did. “A good question. The difference is in the balance. A Café Latte is named such because Milk is the main ingredient – it makes up two thirds of the content. The amount is reversed in favour of espresso in the Cappuccino.”

From there, it turned into a back and forth – Lavellan had clearly really tried to repare for this. She had a lot of questions, and each question seemed to raise Solas’ spirit. He wasn’t even deterred by Sera’s interjections of ass-jokes and inappropriate noises. His entire attention was focused on Lavellan, and preparing every drink she asked about. After one hour they had over twenty eight different servings of coffee on the table.Lavellan had tasted almost all of them, and was practically bouncing with giddiness and excitement.

Solas decided that now would be a good time to introduce her to the different roasts and blends, and asked them to follow him to the back. And as if on cue – very much on cue, actually – Sera jumped up from where she had been slounching over the counter, clearly bored by Solas’ lecture. She elbowed Dagna.

“What?” Dagna looked at Sera with confusion, then she hit her head with her palm. “Oh, right! Hey, Ellana. Purely spontaneously I remembered: You need to wear an apron. Everyone who is behind the counter needs to wear an apron at all times.”

“Yeah, it’s the owner’s policy!” Sera cackled.

“Oh?” Ellana seemed a bit confused. “Okay?”

“Here, mistress, you can have mine. I’ll help you put it on,” Zevran spoke up, his usually helpful self. When had he even returned? Varric hadn’t noticed. He had been busy discreetly taking notes on Ellana and Solas. Speaking off.

“Let me,” Solas interjected sharply, practically ripping the offending piece of green cloth from Zevran’S hands. He carefully – no, scratch that, gingerly – wrapped it around her hips and tied it into a bow.

When he made a step back from her, an arm was thrown over his shoulder. Solas tensed up. Bull leaned his imposing frame across Solas, with a shit-eating grin on his face. And he whistled. “Hey, looks good on you, Mistress Ellana. Doesn’t it, Solas? Doesn’t it look just right on her?”

This caused another hysteric giggling from Sera. What the fuck was this? It felt like they were putting on a play. But to what end? Oh, wait…

“It does,” Solas said, very very slowly and deliberately.

“Thank you?” Ellana said, with a blush and some hesitation. Varric couldn’t blame her.

“Yeah, you rock that thing And now you’re practically and expert on coffee. As a totally innocent bystander and now regular customer I think you should work here. Don’t you wanna work here?” someone spoke up next to Varric, leaning heavily on him. Varric didn’t even need to look up to know that Marian was probably wearing that totally self-satisfied expression again. So that was what they had been plotting.

Why, though, had Sera roped Marian into this absurd plan?

“Oh,” Ellana said, with a bit of hesitation. “It… this… it seems like a good place to work in but, don’t get me wrong – I am really not an expert?”

“Oh, pish, posh, I know jack shit about coffee either. And you said you don’t have a job. Come work here! It'll be fun! “Sera was waving around manically. “And you totes don’t need to be an expert. I certainly wasn’t hired for that. Right, Josie? We’re hired for our pointy ears and big personalities. And to carry heavy shit, in Bull’s case.”

“That is _not at all _correct Sera,” Josephine sounded scandalized. “The owner hand-selects every employment for their resume.” Then, hastily, she added, “Not that you aren’t welcome to apply, of course, Mistress Ellana. If you would like to.”

Pretty much all eyes were on her, and it was clear that she noticed. “Uhm,…” Varric, though, watched Solas. Who was staring at Marian as if he was ready to rip her head off. He had his fists balled at his side. Until Ellana continued, that is. Then his gaze snapped to her. “I mean, you are all so nice. And it is wonderful here. Applying doesn’t hurt, right? The owner will probably reject it, if I am not qualified.”

Varric expected Solas to look surprised. Maybe even a little bit happy – the prospect of working so closely together with someone you were interested should, in any way, spark excitement. Until one remembered harassment rules, that is. Instead, Solas’ looked a little pale.

“Nah, I don’t think he will. Right, Solas?” Marian, still leaning on Varric, sounded almost bored.

Solas looked at her, with a guarded expression. “Why are you asking for my guess, Mistress Hawke?”

Varric glanced up at her. Marian was pretending to clean her nails, as if bored. But there was a glint in her eyes. “Oh, just because.” Then she turned to Ellana. “So, what you’re waiting for? You have my blessing.” She made a weird gesture, as if she was the new Divine and truly blessing the other woman. “Shoo, shoo. Go write that application.”

Ellana blinked, then nodded, with a smile. “You’re right.” She turned to Solas. “Would you mind if we continued this… another time, maybe?”

Solas inclined his head a little. “Of course not. Good Luck with the application.”

After a round of goodbyes, Ellana practically skipped out of a shop, whistling a triumphant tune.

* * *

As soon as the door fell closed behind her, Marian turned her attention back to Solas, who was still sort-of trapped with Bull’s arm on his shoulder. “So, she’ll be serving my coffee, right?”

“Yeah, can I read about her in the next newsletter?” Sera leaned herself against Marian, who still was leaning on Varric. He felt like a prop for their weird stage play. Not that he was complaining. He just would have liked to have a script, because clearly it wasn’t over yet.

Solas must have come to the same conclusion. His shoulders were tensed and his expression guarded. “Pardon?”

“Your newsletter. Your policy. You’re the owner, so you can just hire her, if you wanna, right? None of that ‘hiring process’ bullshit. You make the rules, you’re the bossman.”

Her words were followed by a little gasp from josie, mostly silence – and sera blowing her cheeks, making the noise of a dropped bomb, and whispering ‘boo-ya’.

“Oh, was that supposed to be a secret?” Marian feigned innocence.

“Andraste’s ass,” Varric cursed. “Is that true, Chuckles?” Of course it was true. He should have seen it really. Solas hadn’t exactly been subtle.

“So that’s what you meant about the owner being revealed,” Dorian spoke up, looking accusatory at his boyfriend. “You knew!””

Solas didn’t say a word. He just stood there, brows furrowed.

Then, he sighed. “Yes. I own this chain.” He looked at all of them, with an expression mixed between defensive and regretful. “It was not my intention to lie to you. I suppose you have questions.”

“Nah,” Sera said, shaking her head. Solas blinked.

“About what?” Dagna seemed confused. Solas blinked.

“Nope,” Zevran popped the p. Solas blinked.

“Not really, no. You were always a secretive motherfucker. Pardon my Orlesian,” Bull yawned. Solas narrowed his eyes. HE looked to Varric.

Varric shrugged. “Eh, Chuckles. To be honest, it’s very in character.”

“Okay, if we’re over that, can we get to business, yeah? You have three options, bald elf coffee chain overlord,” Marian spoke up again. She extended her index finger. “You can ignore your own bullshit rules and hire her and make out with her in the breakroom between shifts. Happy End Number One, the Barista-fuckening End.”

“Literally Happy End,” Sera snorted.

Marian added her middle finger. “You can just fire yourself because you clearly don’t need the job and not hire her and ask her out. Two Customers are fine to fuck. That’s the No Coffee Happy End, Number Two.”

“We would of course miss you, Boss,” Bull added dutifully.

“Sure,” Zevran muttered, less convincing.

Marian added her ring finger. “Or- and Sera would like you to know that this one was her idea-“ Sera bowed, “you can pick Happy End Number Three, the Really Kinky End: Hire her and be her Boss and her Lover. Bull says you need safeword for that, though.”

They were all waiting for a reacting from Solas. Any reaction.

Very slowly, Solas shrugged off Bull’s arm. “I see,” his voice was more quiet than before – and Varric felt the hairs at the back of his neck rise. Somehow, with two words, the whole atmosphere had shifted, as well as Solas posture.

He untied his apron, crossed his arms behind his back, and turned on his heels. And with slow, deliberate strides, he walked towards the door. Pushed it open. Left.

They all just … stared.

A disgusted noise from Cassandra broke the silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to point to the irony that the longest chapter is named for the shortest cup of coffee.


	8. Ristretto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Thursday Secret is lifted.

Two weeks, there was nothing. Solas had walked out and just not returned. No one heard a word – radiosilence.

The verdict was that he would probably show up again sooner or later, after he had gotten over himself.

The work at the coffee shop resumed almost normally, despite a missing barista-slash-owner. Then Josie found a note in her inbox that Lavellan had indeed been hired.

No one wanted to be the one to explain to her on her first day where Solas was, and they ended up pulling straws. Varric wondered how he had gotten roped into this at all, but he ended up pulling the shortest straw.

It turned out, though, that it wasn’t necessary to explain anything to her.

It turned out that Ellana had not just successfully applied, but also had had a job interview. With the owner. She didn’t elaborate - refused to, really - but there was a mysterious smile on her lips.

* * *

For another two weeks Solas remained vanished. The verdict now was that he would probably never show up again – or so Zevran dramatically intoned. He had given up on his love for the lady and the coffee. Tragic.

Varric thought it a really bad end for his novel. He hit a writer's block and demanded that they add whiskey to every coffee he ordered. Solas wasn't around to chide him on it anway.

And then Thursday came, and Lavellan prepared two cups of cappuccino once her shift was over. Varric couldn’t help himself, he had to know. No restrain necessary anymore. “So who is the other cup for?”

Lavellan smilled at him. “My brother.”

A brother. Of course. Family. That other group of people you might meet regularly. That made sense. They'd all been idiots.

“Speaking of, you’ll all probably meet him soon.”

“Oh?” Varric looked around. “Will he pick you up?”

Ellana shook her head, then laughed. “Patience, Master Tethras. you’ll see.”

* * *

And see, he did. Another two weeks later. Thursday came, and Lavellan prepared three cups of coffee after her shift – but not to go. Varric looked at the cups with amusement. “Ah, so we’ll meet him today? And he is extra thirsty?”

Lavellan hummed, which was no answer at all.

They were getting ready to close shop and all customers aside from Varric and Dorian where gone when the door was pushed open, and an elf pushed in, in a dark green suit with golden ornaments. Fancy. Varric noted the same heritage tattooes that Ellana proudly displayed. So this was her brother, probably. A business man?

He stood in the center of the room, and cleared his throat. There was really no need, though. All attention was on him.

“We’re pretty much closed,” Sera scowled at him. As she always did when a customer wore a suit. She claimed it was a reflex.

“Indeed,” he said evenly. He nodded to Ellana. “I am not here as a customer, however. I am here to introduce myself. My name is Abelas. I am the new owner of _Mythall’s Well. _You will undoubtedly read that in tomorrow's newsletter." He bowed a little.

“What the shit?” Sera sat up straight. Bull cursed, too. He and Varric exchanged a worried glance. Had they truly managed to drive of Solas entirely?

To everyone’s surprise, Ellana beamed at this new owner, and came around from behind the corner. She practically pushed a cup of coffee at him and linker her arm through his. "Don't be so formal." Then she turned to the others. “He’s also my brother.”

“Adoptive brother,” Abelas corrected her.

“Favourite brother,” Ellana shot back. “I sort of volunteer-worked for him before I started working here. Abelas runs several businesses focused on protecting Elvhen heritage in our modern society. And representatives of all Clans work for him. I represented our Clan.”

Now that was … an unexpected twist. “You did not volunteer,” Abelas said, with a bit of a frown. “You forced yourself in.”

Ellana ignored this objection as well. “He’s been interested in _Mythal’s Well_ for a long time. Right, brother?”

Abelas sighed, and nodded. “That is correct. The owner just adamantly refused to sell previously. He accepted my last offer, though. Mysteriously.” Then he addressed the others. “So please know, you will not have to worry about your jobs, nor do I plan to change this business a lot. I intend to respect the former owner’s work and legacy.” Then he took a sip from the cup, before handing it back to Ellana. “Would someone kindly show me around?”

“Of course, New Boss,” Bull got out from behind the counter. Unasked, Sera decided to tag along to, hounding Abelas with slightly rude questions. Zevran also wouldn’t stay behind.

Ellana and Varric where the last ones to remain in the shop itself, and Varric walked over to where she was with her three cups.

“That was quite the surprise, Whistles.You could have warned me.”

“Don’t sulk, Varric,” Ellana laughed. “Abelas asked me not to reveal it.”

“Uh huh. So that is who you met each Thursday.”

Ellana nodded, cheerfully. “Yeah. Board meetings are mandatory and as technically the Keeper of Clan Lavellan – don’t ask, it’s a long story – I had to attend. I just wanted to make it a bit nicer with good coffee. Abelas doesn’t like to show he cares.”

“I see,” then Varric remembered the third cup she had poured today. “And this one? For another family member?”

Ellana’s smile brightened. “No. My boyfriend said he’d pick me up today. He’s in the neighbourhood, dropping off a … a friend.” Then she looked over his shoulder. “Ah, there they are.”

Varric looked over his shoulder and practically chocked on his own coffee.

“Chuckles and … Marian?!”

Marian waved at him, with a grin. “Hey Varric! Look, I adopted another Puppy.”

Varric and Solas sighed deeply at the same time.


	9. Vienna Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of added cream on top ;)

Mythall’s Well was bursting at the seams. Varric was at his usual table that had his name-tag on it. Not always, but for today – because today, he was suffering through a book-signing.

_“Stabbed through the heart” _was probably the worst book he’d ever written, but it was also insanely popular. Much to the delight of one certain Woman, who had drapped her feet in his lap, however, not nearly as popular as a certain Tale of a Champion.

Hence why Cassandra had decided that this book signing was necessary to boost sales. She had been delighted that Marian had volunteered to also show up and sign books. Probably because she liked to see Varric suffer and because Marian knew by now that her adoring fans showered her in gifst at these occasions.

At least for now, though, it seemed that he had run out of copies to sign and fans to appease. He had been given a Vienna Coffee – Espresso with a sinful amount of whipped cream, from what he remembered - and a short break. His coffee was on the house today, Ellana had promised him, so it was his fifth cup already.

Marian was happily munchin on some cookies that a fan had made for her, and graciously handed him one, too.

“So, Varric,” she suddenly struck up a conversation.

“Yes, Champion?”

“Are we done?”

Varric looked towards the clock. “Afraid not. Pentaghast will whoop my ass if I leave here before the shop closes. Why, you got places to be?”

“Oh, always. The breakroom, for one. But that’s not what I meant.”

“No? And what did you mean?”

“Are we done with _this_?” She gestured towards the counter. Then the whole room. “Your book is written, your characters have their happy end. Baldy and Whistles are occupying the breakroom as we speak and have been doing so for the past hour. Quite rude of them, really. Other people have needs, too.” She leaned forwards, towards him. “Are we finally done with this romance thing?”

“We?” Varric couldn’t help himself. He snorted. “I wasn’t aware you were writing a book too. And here I thought you were busy messing up other people’s business again. My mistake.”

“A grievous mistake, indeed,” Marian intoned haughtily. She stretched herself, and took her feet of his lap. “I don’t mess with other people’s business, Varric. Just yours. You should have figured this out by now. And to think how many favors I pulled to get you your stupid dragon-less happy end romance.”

She got up. Varric eyed her warily. So her ‘investigation’ of the owner had been another of her territorial fits? Andraste’s holy knickers, no one had ever taught this feral child how to share her friends.

“Where are you going?”

“Home,” she held out a hand. “I’ve had enough coffee for a lifetime. Let’s get back to the _Hanged Man_, okay?”

Varric stared at her. Then he briefly glanced to Cassandra, who had her nose buried in her copy of “Stabbed through the heart” for probably the fifth time. He got up, and took Marian's hand.

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I initially meant to write ten pieces for this. The last one would have been a Romano - Espresso with lemon. If you catch my drift.
> 
> But Marian pushed in and demanded her screen time and what can I say. I am a sucker for some implied Marian-pining-for-Varric-and-being-only-semi-subtle-about-it and Varric still-not-getting-it.

**Author's Note:**

> My form of an apology for all the angsty prompt fills in written form; have a semi-fluffy comedy coffee shop AU. Stories based vaguely on Varric's perspective are my kryptonite. As always with coffee shop AUs: highly unrealistic, author is not a barista, you will 100% feel like you’ve read this before.   
I also came to really hate this as I was writing this, so what else is new.
> 
> Original Prompt by anon over at DApromptexchange on tumblr:
> 
> Varric likes going to a little cafe and hanging out with the barista Solas to people watch and write his new romance book. Varric decides to write the book about Solas after watching him pine for a young woman who came in often but was too stuck in his ways to ask her out.


End file.
